Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Fantasy Book	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 44517 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“Harry!” she giggled. “Not so high! I’m terrible at flying!” Hermione shrieked as Ron zoomed past her on his broom. They were only just a few feet off the ground; they not pertaining to the boys as both Ron and Harry continued to swoop up and down and all over the Quidditch pitch. She kept both hands firmly on the broomstick and hovered quite still in the middle of the field.

            It had been a rather stuffy night inside of Gryffindor tower and the previous week’s rain had kept them all cloistered inside. But the night air had seemed all too inviting after being trapped in the castle for more than a few days. She was generally not one to blatantly defy school rules without some world-saving purpose behind her defiance but as the world’s largest threat had been quelled and her days at Hogwarts resumed rather normally Hermione found herself in need of a change of pace.

            She’d laid her books down and agreed to follow the boys out to the Quidditch pitch, though how they’d convinced her to hop on a broom and go skyward was beyond her. There had been much disagreement over their breaking and entering into the school broom shed, but as she did not have a broom of her own and did not trust riding on a broom with either of her friends they’d left her little choice.

            But their fun came to a screeching halt when Ron tumbled off his broom. He hadn’t been diving into a stunt to show off or recklessly crashed. He had been looping around the goal posts when a force had restrained the tail of his broom and throttled him from his ride. Hermione quickly dismounted her broom while Harry whizzed over on his.

            “That will be fifteen points from Gryffindor. Each.” He said, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. “And detention for all three of you.”

            Hermione stood frozen to the spot, Ron hadn’t picked himself up from the sand pit and Harry was snarling, reaching for his wand. Severus Snape stood with his black robes billowing behind him in the night breeze, clasped in one hand was the tail of Ron’s broom. As Harry gripped his wand the re-instated potions master raised his and pointed at the boy’s chest.

            “You may have been the boy-who-lived but your high and mighty horse has long since galloped out of town,” he sneered and then thrust his arm in the direction of the castle, using his wand to emphasize his point. “Now get to Mr. Filch’s office immediately,” he spat. “Get up, Mr. Weasley, and follow Mr. Potter to the caretaker’s office.” He waited only a split second for Ron to begin to climb to his feet. “Now.”

            Hermione turned her eyes expectantly to the professor but when he said nothing she made to follow her friends. But his hand touched her shoulder. “Not you, Miss Granger.” He said.

            Her body went rigid and ever hair on the back of her neck stood straight on end. The night air had been refreshingly cool before but now it was frigid despite her warm cloak. As she slowly turned to face him she did her best not to tremble or show that she was nervous. “Sir?” she asked.

            “Explain yourself, Miss Granger.” He said.

            His words were clear and what he expected was not unreasonable but she had lost all powers of speech. He towered over her and against the darkness of the night she could hardly make out his features. He blended into the shadows, giving him an air of mystery which only made her shudder. But after a moment of clearing the fog from her brain she found her voice and cleared her throat.

            “Sorry, sir,” Hermione bowed her head as if being reprimanded. “But we’d been trapped inside Gryffindor Tower for nearly a week what with the rain, and I suppose they just wanted me to join them for a good time.”

            “I would hardly expect your idea of a good time to be gallivanting about outside the castle after curfew, Miss Granger.”

            “It’s not, sir,” she added with haste. “I don’t care for flying." The darkness obscured his face, making his features impossible to see. It gave him an air of mystery which only made her shudder. But after a moment of clearing the fog from her brain she found her voice and cleared her throat. "I don't care for flying at all," she whispered.

            Severus Snape crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow up on his forehead. “You don’t care for flying.” He repeated her words but with mock disbelief.

            “No, sir, I don’t. I’ve never been…” the flush rose to her cheeks. “I’ve never been terribly good at it.” Hermione Granger had difficulty admitting defeat, especially when it came to a school subject; something that could be learned. Learning was her specialty and her inability to master flying through her studies had made her dreadfully uncomfortable regarding the matter.

            His face was still; no emotions passing across it no words leaving his lips. For a moment she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation. But then he spoke.

            “Straddle the broom, Miss Granger.”

            “I beg your pardon, sir?” she asked, her voice squeaking in a much higher octave than she’d intended.

            “While you may have temporarily lost your senses when you made the decision to come outside with your cohorts you have not lost your hearing. Now, straddle the broom, Miss Granger.”

            A blush flooded into her cheeks and Hermione gazed down at the broom Ron had been riding. It was his personal broomstick, a Comet260, not nearly as fancy or as new as Harry’s Firebolt IV, but a working and well cared for broom. Harry had told her when they’d left the dormitory to put on trousers or at least muggle jeans as no one rode a broom in a skirt but she had been stubborn insisting that they weren’t going to convince to actually ride one. Now she found herself regretting not heeding his advice.

            She held the broom in front of her and stepped one leg on either side of the stick. Silent utterances ran through her mind, praying that he wouldn’t force her to fly. Her eyes went wide as she felt his body suddenly behind her, his chest pressing ever so slightly against her back. His left hand gripped the broom handle just ahead of hers and his right arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her body further back against his.

            Hermione closed her eyes. It was a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. But before she could contemplate it any further her feet were wobbling and the broom was hovering above the ground. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of the broomstick tighter.

            “Relax,” she heard his voice, and she shivered. His lips were very close to her ear. His arm was gripped firmly but not uncomfortably around her middle his other hand gently guiding the broom to go higher. They were nearly fifteen feet off the ground and Hermione closed her eyes.

            It wasn’t that she feared heights but rather her fear of tumbling from said heights that forced her body to remain rigid as they climbed skyward. The broom’s ascent was slow and level, none of the fancier tricks she had witnessed the boys doing not but moments ago. Chilly winds surrounded them but the heat radiating against her body from him made the temperature of little consequence.

            Hermione leaned back as his arm tugged around her middle, as if trying to guide her back against his body and as the wind rushed about her face she let her head lull back against his shoulder. For a moment her fears seemed to melt away. But her heartbeat had not slowed. Her body was panicking but for a different reason.

            Through the rushing wind she could still catch his scent, strong and manly with touches of herbs and hints of sandalwood. It had all happened so fast she hadn’t had time to register the tightening sensation in her stomach and the tingling feeling between her legs. At first she had chalked it up to queasiness over the sudden flight and the unusual feeling of the broomstick between her legs but as he turned his head slightly to the side, guiding the broom to do the same she felt the side of his face brush her chin and she shivered.

            The hand that had been wrapped securely around her midsection now rested in her lap and Hermione’s eyes opened. She gazed down, watching his hand sitting idly on her skirt. Her breath hitched in her throat as the tingling sensation between her legs grew stronger. His shoulder was sturdy as her head fell back against it.

            “Miss Granger,” he said, turning his eyes to hers. Her head was tilted toward him at a slightly awkward angle but not so terrible that he couldn’t see her eyes. “Relax,” he repeated his command from earlier. But his voice was that much softer as he spoke.

            She closed her eyes and tilted her head up ever so slightly. And at once she felt his lips on hers. The wind was rushing through her hair and she could feel the breeze whipping up her skirt. They kissed. His lips were soft, his tongue like velvet as he slipped it inside of her mouth.

            Flying had never felt better. But the thought was overruled as she felt his hand between her legs. She hadn’t noticed him move it but suddenly he was beneath her skirt, cupping her sex through her knickers, acting as a barrier between her and the broomstick. She moaned but her vocalizations were lost between the wind and his mouth as he continued to kiss her.

            She should have fallen off the broom or it should have begun spiraling out of control on its way to the ground. But it maintained a course as if guided by an invisible force and within moments all thoughts of the broom were gone from her mind as she felt his fingers pushing aside the fabric of her knickers.

            Again she moaned, this time breaking their kiss, but only for a moment. His lips were once again on hers, kissing her as he stroked his fingers against her sex. She whimpered, afraid to move her hips for fear of falling from the broomstick. But he seemed to understand her without words.

            Severus shifted his hand and angled his fingers against the broom until he was able to push up into her slick opening with ease. First one finger, then a second one and a third. Hermione was writing against his hand, feeling his thumb pressing at her sensitive bundle of nerves. She longed to cry out but his lips remained on hers. The kiss was divine, her head spinning with the growing sensations from between her thighs.

            The broom was vibrating and they began to descend as he worked his fingers in and out of her sex, circling her clitoris with his thumb. She could feel her legs beginning to spasm, her muscles tensing up as he pushed her easily over the edge. Hermione cried out, the orgasm intensified by the wind. She shook and trembled, body leaning completely back against his.

            Hermione hadn’t noticed that he’d landed them safely back on the field until she felt his fingers sliding from her warmth. Their kiss was broken once more as he slowly drew each digit into his mouth and licked her fluids from them. She tasted sweet and he suppressed a groan. Severus let the broom fall to the ground between them and then gripped her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.

            “That is a good time while flying,” he said.

            Hermione blushed but slowly nodded her head.

            She closed the book, her cheeks flushed and her sex quivering. She longed to touch herself to relieve the tension but she couldn’t bring herself to do it with his sleeping body against hers. Hermione released a sigh and closed her eyes. “That was the fantasy of flight.”
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The Fantasy Book